Straight to the Sky
by Somewhat Quirky
Summary: AU in which Lily is a raging poetry enthusiast, James picks too many battles, and everyone's living in a duplex.
1. Oh, Sweet Mary

**author's note: the basis for this fic comes from the tumblr duality challenge set by diarycrux and also the fact i'm a sucker for marauder aus.**

i: "strength vs. weakness"

_oh, sweet Mary, in our story_

_have we nothing left to give?_

The blood in Remus Lupin's mouth tasted metallic, overbearingly salty. His teeth were stained red and aching. The assailants – Mulciber and Avery by the look of them – sprinted away down the street, leaving Remus lying there on the tarmac. Everything was blurry, and his head throbbed as he pulled himself up from the ground, wanting nothing more than to be at home with one of Fabian's records and a bottle of Mary's bitter cider (even though Sirius and James would've taken the piss out of him for drinking it).

Remus wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand and then walked off in the opposite direction to Avery and Mulciber. Judging from the dull pain above his left eye, they'd managed to scrape him up pretty badly. His side hurt from where Mulciber's boot had caught him.

After a few blocks, the town dissolved from red brick shop windows and second-floor flats to a mild, somewhat dim suburbia. Every house had a lawn in front of it, and these were all well trimmed, with the exception of the sections that let their gardens grow out, or the one-storey duplexes that did not have space for a lawn.

Remus was content walking along alone; he knew where he was going, and he knew that, with any luck, only half of the gang would be there. Sirius and Fabian were working until eight o'clock, and Lily had one of those poetry-in-the-park things to attend, and Dorcas and Marlene were bound to be queued outside the one record shop in town, either smoking or waiting for the Pink Floyd album they had put together funds enough to buy. James would either be visiting his parents on the other side of town or distracting Sirius from the only job he was ever interested enough to keep, given the time of day. Remus found solace in this – the last thing anyone needed was for him to come home bloodied up. They'd have the whole street up in arms and after Mulciber and Avery before he could guarantee them he hadn't been hurt too badly.

He could hear Sirius in his head, saying, "but it's the _principle_, isn't it, Lupin? If we don't do something about this now, those bastards will think they can keep at it!"

And of course James would agree, and by dinnertime they'd have roped the twins into it, and probably got Frank Longbottom from down the road to come along. No, it'd be better for everyone if nobody found out until his bruises had had the chance to settle.

* * *

Mary Macdonald had just got off the phone with Molly Prewett about the correct amount of brandy to put in a dessert, but when she saw Remus Lupin slumping in from the street, she decided that perhaps an entire bottle would be more appropriate. Dropping her flour-piled spoon in the sink, she hurried out of the kitchen and opened the front door just as Remus reached it. He had cuts on his forehead, one scraped cheek, and what looked to be the making of a black eye.

"_Remus!_"

He ran his tongue over a split lip and tried for a smile. "Hey, Mare."

Mary ushered him into the kitchen, where she began searching through cupboards for ointment and bandages. _Marlene's bloody compulsive cleaning!_ She spotted a bottle of rubbing alcohol on a shelf too high for her to reach, and as she tried to tiptoe for it, Remus obliged, even though she thought it might have pained him.

"Why don't you sit down?" she urged, gesturing to the kitchen table that really wasn't big enough for the amount of people who frequented the house. Remus took a seat and Mary set about finding the rest of the things she thought might placate Remus' wounds. She gathered them up in her hands and sat down beside him at the table. "Who did this to you?"

She turned her chair around so that she could face him and began dabbing at his scratches with an alcohol-saturated cotton ball. Remus winced. "Avery and Mulciber, I believe."

"As if our lot needed another reason to hate them," Mary muttered. "Sirius, especially."

Pausing in the cleaning of Remus' cuts, she scanned the medical supplies on the table.

"Maybe get straight to the soothing ointment?" Remus offered.

Mary smiled. "If you don't think you'll get an infection."

He shrugged. "I was a sickly kid. I think I can handle a little infection if it'll stop our duplex starting a riot with Mulciber and his mates."

Reluctantly, she agreed to this, and moved to wiping the drying blood from his face and applying ointment where it seemed most necessary. They were quiet a few moments, with Mary tending to the remaining scrapes, and Remus letting her. After a minute, Remus asked, "so are you the only one home, then?"

Mary pulled her hand away from him, wiping the sticky ointment off her fingers and debating whether or not to put plasters on the larger scratches. "No," she replied. "Gideon's in his room. I think Emmeline was here a while ago, because I could hear them listening to music, but she will have gone by now; she wanted to catch Alice before she left the post office."

Remus took this in with a nod. Mary offered bandages, but he declined. "Can't have James seeing those. And it's probably better for prospective wounds to breathe a bit."

He helped her pack away the medical supplies and then noticed the half-finished cake batter and the spoonful of flour dusting the sink. "Were you baking?"

"Trying to. Molly Prewett's been giving me recipes for things so that everyone stops scrounging stuff from her when they go round there."

They chuckled at this, then noticed Lily Evans through the window as she stomped up to the front door with James Potter at her heels.

* * *

"John Keats is not _stupid_, James."

He raised his hands in surrender, dodging the front door that she had almost slammed on him. "I never said he was! In fact – he's the kind of bloke I think Sirius needs more of – but come _on_, the ponce pretending to be him was a total prat!"

Lily rolled her eyes, turning to face him. "In what way?"

"He broke character _three_ _times_ to fiddle with his hair, and he kept trying to smile at you while reading out a poem about _existentialism and death!_ Come on, Lily – you can't _actually_ –"

"'Can't actually' _what_?" she asked, the line between biting and inquisitive blurred. "Was it his weak acting that bothered you, or the fact he seemed to be interested in me?"

James began to answer the question, then realized that he and Lily were standing in the corridor between the door, the living room, and the kitchen; the entrance to the latter of which was wide open, and Remus and Mary were watching them. He raised a hand to wave at them and heard Lily sigh.

"Hello, you two," she said, squeezing past James and entering the kitchen. "The poetry reading was a disaster."

"Mostly due to that one?" Mary guessed, a smirk on her face as she pointed to James who now leaned against the doorframe.

James scoffed. "Hardly. I'd say it was due to the terrible acting of one John Keats, who seemed to want nothing more than for Lily to be his Fanny Brawne."

From Mary: "His brown what?"

From Lily: "Oh _please_ – don't pretend you know anything about those two."

James looked insulted. "I know Keats! _Bright Star_, Lily? That sound familiar?"

She rolled her eyes again.

"'Bright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art –'"

"Oh, do stop," Lily snapped.

She did her best to glare at him, though James did catch her smiling. He turned his attention to Remus and Mary, noticing for the first time that his friend looked a bit worse-for-wear. "Looking a bit rugged there, Remus."

Remus and Mary exchanged a look. "I attacked him," the latter said quickly.

"It was surprising and vaguely sexual," Remus added.

James raised his eyebrows, unconvinced, but did not press the issue further.

* * *

"_McKinnon_," Sirius begged, leaning over the bar and reaching for a cigarette with his mouth, "come on – just one? I'll feel you up behind Diggory's brewery and everything, just gimme _one_."

Marlene cocked her head. "Odds are you'll feel me up behind Diggory's _anyway_, smoke or not." She pocketed the pack and turned to see him face on, pressing her elbows against the countertop. "Besides, no one's allowed to. Not in here. _And_ you're working."

"And you're probably saving them for some pretentious midnight talk you'll have with Gid this weekend."

Marlene raised an eyebrow, her eyes unreadable. "Didn't think you were the jealous type, Black."

"I'm not," he replied faux-sweetly. Beginning to wipe down the surface of the bar, he turned to her again, eyes narrowed. "Like I'd be jealous of you and Gid, anyway, McKinnon."

She rolled her eyes and gulped down the last of her half-priced cider. The bar was reasonably quiet, considering that most of the office blocks down the road had just clocked off their daily hours. Fabian was clearing tables, and as Marlene watched him, almost dropping nearly all the glasses he picked up. There were groups scattered across the small bar: a man with a wedding ring holding hands with a woman who wasn't wearing one, a trio of pretty girls who kept sneaking glances at Sirius, a gaggle of middle-aged Welsh men laughing too loud.

"Why's there no music in this sorry excuse for a pub?" Marlene groaned, returning her attention to Sirius, who now leaned against the counter lazily.

"Don't knock my establishment, McKinnon. I seem to recall you coming in six times a week, at _least_."

"Mostly because I'm hauling your arse home," she reminded. "And it's not _your_ establishment."

"The Abbotts make sure I don't have to scrounge off my parents," Sirius replied. "Therefore, it's my establishment. I'm as good as betrothed to old Saturday Tom."

Marlene smirked at that. "Where _is_ Tom?"

"Told ya. It's not Saturday."

One of the girls from the other side of the room sidled up to the bar, a foot over from Marlene and Sirius as they conducted their conversation. Marlene looked her up and down, wondering why her face was familiar. Sirius approached her and asked the standard, "What can I get you?"

"What?" the girl mocked. "No 'darling' this time round?"

Sirius winked, nodding to Marlene. "Not with my girl here."

Marlene raised her eyebrows and leaned forward to address the familiar-looking girl instead of Sirius. "I'm not his girl," she assured her. She reached over the countertop to grab a bottle of cider that Sirius had just pulled from the cooler and hopped down from the stool she'd been lounging in. "Mind if I take your jacket, Black? Dorcas said it'd be pissing down by the time I left."

Busy blending the pretty girl's martini, Sirius gave a cursory response: "Sure, Mack. Whatever you like. Now was this a dirty martini, Emma?"

Marlene smirked, both at Sirius' blatant disregard for his most prized possession – save for, perhaps, his motorbike – and at the revelation of Emma Vanity. Emma filled in for missing blokes at football matches. She was good enough. Mary didn't like her much, but Mary was generally jealous of pretty girls with many talents.

Marlene nicked the leather jacket from its hook out the back, grinning to Fabian on her way out. "Later, Fab."

"Bye, Mar."

Loved Dorcas Meadowes, Fabian did. The thought of it made Marlene laugh. If she believed heavily in love she could've been with Dorcas, perhaps even Sirius or Gid. But Marlene had been burdened with a strong case of realism, and loving someone was possibly the greatest display of weakness she could think of.

_No_, she thought, shaking her head as she shrugged into the too-broad leather jacket and took a sip of cider, _Marlene McKinnon was certainly not weak._

* * *

By the time Sirius and Fabian arrived back at the shared duplex, it was almost half eight. The place was bustling, light pouring out of the windows, laughter echoing around the reverb of open curtains. Lily sat facing Remus on a couch in the living room, her curled up limbs and bright smile making her look vaguely feline; they were discussing books and films and Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Lily hadn't asked Remus about his black eye or split lip because he seemed to be trying to hide it. Gideon and Mary were swaying to the music on the radio, while Marlene and Dorcas sat at the kitchen table chatting about Bertha Jorkins, the newest journalist for the local paper. James sat on the bench a couple of feet away, eating toast and drumming his heels against the cupboards below.

"How was work?" he asked Sirius, who came to sit beside him.

"How was Emma Vanity?" Marlene quipped.

"Nothing special," Sirius replied, though to whose comment it was remained unspecified. He pulled two bottles of whiskey out of his pockets, which could fit much more than they should have been able to, and said to Marlene, "thanks for taking my jacket. Couldn't get fuck all out of the bar with only the pockets of my jeans."

"You let me have it!" Marlene protested. "Just because you were too busy telling Emma bloody Vanity about how I was 'your girl'."

Dorcas chuckled. "Marlene, you're nobody's girl." She turned to Sirius. "I don't know how you and Fabian still have your jobs with all the stuff you nick from that place."

"_Rubbish_," said Sirius. "Abbott loves us, and you lot provide regular enough business to cover up any accidental thieving on my part." He shrugged. "Not that her Wonder Boy ever takes anything," he muttered to James, who grinned.

"Speaking of Fabian," Dorcas said, for Sirius had not quite mastered the art of subtlety, "I distinctly remember him telling me that Molly's moving in with Arthur Weasley."

"Who's Arthur Weasley?" Sirius asked of the room.

"We know Arthur Weasley," James reminded him. "Funny bloke. Slightly more ginger than Evans. Can't play football to save his life." He paused, noticing that his friend was still uncomprehending. "Come on – the one that bastard Yaxley used to take the piss of. _That_ Weasley."

Lily and Remus entered the kitchen then, both holding empty glasses. Dorcas excused herself to converse with Fabian. James, having not had the chance to properly ask Remus about what had happened to him, inspected his friend's bruised, purple eye, which now shone out under the industrial wattage of the kitchen. Sirius noticed it, too.

"Blimey, Lupin – didn't get in a scrape with Evans over poetry, did you?"

"No," Lily replied. "That was James."

"Then who gave you the shiner?"

Remus looked pained, and not from the physical injuries he had received. After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Avery and Mulciber. They cornered me after I left Figg's shop."

Sirius and James had leapt from the bench at the mention of Avery and Mulciber, and the blood had left Lily's face. Marlene gritted her teeth.

"I'm going to get those bastards," said Sirius. "James, come on."

"Right behind you, mate!" James ducked around Remus and pushed past Lily across the hall into the living room. "Gideon, Fabian – get your boots, boys – we'll be paying a visit to the other side of town."

"What, we seeing your mum?"

"Try Avery and Mulciber," Sirius corrected. "They ganged up on Lupin and now they've got to learn – once again – why they should stay on their turf and not bother us on ours."

Fabian stood, looking to Dorcas. Gideon joined James and Sirius as they made their way to the door. Lily, Marlene, and Remus moved out into the hall, and then all nine housemates were in one cramped corridor.

"I'm as mad about this as any of you," said Lily, "but going out and attacking them in _their_ arena doesn't sound smart to me."

Sirius shook his head. "You wouldn't understand, Evans."

"I think I understand perfectly!" she replied, ducking around Marlene and peering over Gideon's shoulder. Her green eyes bore into Sirius' gray ones. "If you go there with – what? – four of you? – then you'll get revenge on Avery and Mulciber, sure, but what happens when they call Rosier? The Lestranges?" She looked to James. "You're running into a trap they don't know they've set for you."

James looked away, setting his jaw. Fabian and Gideon turned to Sirius, who was still outraged. "We'll knock on Frank's door on our way past – and I know a couple of other blokes are just _looking _for a reason to pull one on those berks." He glared at Lily. "I know why you don't want us over there, Evans."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, because you've got one of those sniveling twats chasing your skirt. That Snape bloke."

"Give it a rest, Sirius," James muttered.

Lily glowered at them. "Fine. You lot can do what you like, but don't come running to me when this fight turns four on sixteen and someone's in hospital."

"In other words," Mary offered, "be careful."

Sirius pulled the door open and stormed out, a sight at which Marlene rolled her eyes, and the rest of the boys followed. Remus did so as well, because he did not wish to be absent when it was he that they were fighting for. Lily stomped back to her bedroom and Mary followed, leaving Marlene and Dorcas standing at the door.

"Sometimes I don't know how we survive under one roof," said Marlene.

"Technically, given the duplex factor, it's two."

"Shut up, Meadowes."

* * *

"You didn't have to say all those things about Snape, you know."

Sirius kept his eyes ahead, the gray of them accented by orange streetlights and the red glow of a passing car. Fabian and Gideon were up ahead with Remus, but James had hung back to walk with his best friend; a friend who, right now, did not seem to want to have much to do with him.

"How could she tell us _not_ to defend our mate?" Sirius' voice was harsh, full of aggression. "She lives under the same roof as us, and _you_ saw her chatting away with Remus – but _no_, as soon as we come under fire, she tells us to bolt!" He sighed. "What do you _see_ in her, James?"

"I don't see anything in her, mate. Can we focus on not getting our arses kicked by a bunch of the kids we grew up with?"

There was silence a moment, then Sirius half-grinned. "You're a shitty liar."

James smirked. "I don't know _what_ you're talking about."


	2. Everybody's Gone To War

**author's note: this belongs to jkr, and i am but a poor imitation.**

ii: "order vs. chaos"

(warning: lots of order, not much chaos)

_if god's on our side,_

_then god is a joker_

"Don't you _dare_ say 'I told you so'," James muttered to Lily, still managing to grin despite the blood gushing from his nose. She glared at him.

"I didn't plan to," she replied. "Mary knows where all the medicine is, I'll wake her and get her to help you out."

She had almost reached the door when James said, "Mary wasn't the one who stayed up waiting for us."

Lily stopped, turning to him. She was beautiful, certainly, and he thought so even as she stood here in her dark green flannel pajamas, covered up by a silky dressing gown that would've originally belonged to Mary. Lily was very annoying, and highly neurotic, and half the time she was at his throat about something or other, but she was also usually right.

"No, but she's the one who won't be snarky whilst tending to the battle scars you've acquired, so I think she's the safer bet."

She left the room then, leaving James alone. Remus had retired to bed, relatively unscathed but absolutely shattered, and Sirius hadn't wanted Lily to have the moral high ground, so he'd gone into the other flat where Marlene and Dorcas' shared room was. Fabian and Gideon had followed suit.

James tilted his head towards the ceiling in an attempt to quell his bleeding nose, and then began to worry about the scrapes on his back from when Rabastan Lestrange had shoved him onto the road. It ached to sit back against the couch, so he was trapped in perfect posture.

Lily returned with Mary, and they'd switched the dressing gown between them because, as far as James knew, Mary was the type to sleep in a shorter, lacier number.

"What seems to be the problem, sugar?" Mary asked of James. "You know, beyond the bleeding nose and cut on your forehead."

"My back's pretty much scraped raw, and I'll have a bruised side until my children are middle-aged, but beyond that, I think I'm alright."

Lily tried and failed not to smile at that, and Mary sent her to the kitchen cupboard where she had, hours earlier, retrieved things for a similarly injured Remus Lupin.

"Okay, gorgeous, take your shirt off."

"What?"

Mary clapped her hands impatiently. "Your back's hurt, and if it's not cleaned up soon, it'll be permanently marred. I'm sure that'd inhibit your confidence playing shirts and skins at football."

James obliged as Lily returned with her hands full of antiseptic cream and rubbing alcohol and a great deal of things James wagered would hurt a lot if applied to the raw flesh on his body.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor, Lily," he teased, noticing her watching him. "You might just find your dignity down there, too."

She averted her gaze, rolling her eyes at him. She rolled her eyes at him a lot, Lily Evans. "Alright, Mare," she said, addressing her friend, "what should we deal with first?"

"'We'? Lily, you woke me up for this." Mary shook her head. "I have work in seven hours, and Alice will kill me if I fall asleep and leave her to deal with customers."

"It's a post office," said Lily. "How many 'customers' can there be?"

"Evans, if you don't want to be alone with me, you needn't act like a nine-year-old."

Mary laughed and left the room, and Lily was too busy scowling at James to protest. She sat down beside him, crossing her legs and turning to face him as she had done with Remus earlier. She had traded her smile for seriousness.

"What should I do first?" she asked.

James chuckled. "Don't let me answer that question, Evans."

Lily seemed to contemplate slapping him, but then opted not to. Instead, she gave him tissues for his nose and dabbed sticky disinfectant ointment on the cut on his forehead. "Did you at least get some good punches in edgewise?"

James smiled. "Guarantee you Avery won't be in our area for a month."

* * *

One half the duplex housed a sleeping Remus, a near-sleeping Mary, and a pair named James and Lily who were speaking to each other like humans for once. The other half had a Dorcas who was pouring everyone a glass of the whiskey Sirius had nicked from the pub, which she had then nicked from the other flat's fridge, along with a Marlene who was sick of being expected to clean up other people's messes, and a stubborn trio of boys with varying degrees of injury.

"You should've seen Mulciber," Sirius said to Marlene. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's at home crying to his mother right now."

All the lights were on, and they were all clustered around the kitchen table. Fabian and Gideon were humming a Rolling Stones song. Sirius had fallen into the habit of talking too loud and being as unreliable a narrator as he had ever been when telling a story. Marlene was torn between wanting to clean up the wounds she could see from where he had taken a beating and wanting to shove the cloth in her hand into his stained red teeth.

"As opposed to Rodolphus, who's crying to your cousin?" said Dorcas, setting out everyone's whiskey glasses. "You know, the cousin who might have a go at one of us as we walk along Main Street?"

Sirius shook his head at her. "Bellatrix won't be heading our way soon. My aunt wouldn't let her. Trust me, she says one word to you and her own mother will strike the first blow."

Marlene and Dorcas exchanged a glance. Sirius and James had both come from the other side of town, yet the former's experience had been very different. James went back every other week to see his parents, and Sirius hadn't visited once. No one mentioned it.

Sirius leaned in close to Marlene, murmuring his words into her ear. "Want to go out for a smoke, McKinnon?"

She did not want to. She wanted to go to bed, or kiss him, or slap him so hard that his pale, well-defined cheeks went red where her fingers had touched. She wanted to get so drunk that she didn't have to think of a world in which people like Lupin got attacked and people like Fabian and Gideon had to go and do something about it. She wanted most of all to not care about any of it, because she was Marlene McKinnon and she excelled at not caring, but something about these people made her do so. She hated it.

She downed her whiskey in one go, not wanting to drown in the chaos of her own mind. "Will it make you feel better?"

"Probably," he replied.

"Fine."

* * *

One hour later, while Sirius and Marlene were sitting outside under one of Lily's attempts at a window garden and Gideon had gone back to the other flat to sleep in Remus' room (because it had the best view of the sunlight, apparently), Fabian and Dorcas were lying together on couch. Fabian loved her and Dorcas didn't know, really, how much. She didn't know if she loved him. Some days she could, some days she couldn't, like all she wanted was the beach in Blackpool where her grandmother had taken her once and her life here didn't seem to matter.

But right now she could. She definitely could.

"I don't think I ever want to move," she said softly.

"You don't have to," Fabian replied after a moment, his voice slurred from tiredness. "We could just stay here and kick the rest of them out and just stay here forever by ourselves just together."

Dorcas closed her eyes. "And then you wouldn't have to fight the other townies and I wouldn't have to put up with Jorkins and Skeeter getting picked for articles over me, and we could listen to music all the time and sing along and everything."

"I can't sing."

"That's alright," she breathed, half turning to him. Her shoulder pressed against his chest. "Being terrible's half the fun."

Fabian smiled, letting out the ghost of a sigh. He was banged up badly enough, but part of her doubted that anything could really ever hurt Fabian. She didn't want to see herself be disproved. She rolled over a bit more, bringing her torso and legs with her; they were face to face now, inches apart. Fabian blushed. Marlene told Dorcas he loved her. Could anyone love in this crazy messed up duplex arrangement, where none of them were old enough for the jobs they wanted and the only regular thing about their lives was the act of being attacked by rich kids from the other side of town? Could you love someone then? Perhaps loving someone was all you _could_ do.

"Fabian," she whispered.

"Dorcas," he dealt back, smiling.

Then she kissed him.

* * *

Sirius Black had found a vague sense of order in his life. He had a best friend who was more important to him than he himself was, he had a semi-steady job and therefore a source of income, he had a roof over his head, and he had a family. He sat smoking under one of Lily bloody Evans' gardening endeavors and he had McKinnon, who was blonde and sharp and interesting.

"You're still wearing my jacket, McKinnon." He prodded her shoulder. "It's too big for you."

"I don't happen to be a sexy man, Black."

"Oh, I know. Believe me. You're as much a girl as Mary is."

Marlene elbowed him. "I don't appreciate your gratuitous perversion, mate."

Sirius sighed, taking a drag from his second cig in the hour they'd been talking. He and Marlene were quiet a moment, just sitting together, one in a leather jacket and the other too cold in the late-night-early-morning air due to his lack of one. They were comfortable in the silence, which was something Sirius admired about McKinnon.

Then, as she did very often, Marlene surprised him. She burst out laughing.

"What's so funny, Mack?"

"Sometimes I just forget how pansy England is."

He turned on her, raising his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it bloody well is." She grinned at him. "You go out and take a few punches to the neck and expect all the girls this side of the post office to beg for your manhood." Laughing, she took a drag of her cigarette. "A month in Glasgow and you'd be hiding behind me for cover."

"Oh, McKinnon, aren't I always?"

* * *

James lay awake with his curtains drawn, letting the mix of dull moonlight and distant streetlights shine down on his skin. He slept in the bed beside the window, and Remus and Gideon occupied the two bunks pressed against the opposite wall. The top bunk sagged but Gideon didn't seem to mind; Gideon could have slept anywhere and made himself comfortable. Remus was fine, too, once he got past the initial terror that Gid would fall through the mattress and land on him in the night.

There weren't _specific_ sleeping arrangements in the three-bedroom duplex. Technically, they now had four bedrooms between the shared flats, as the unit with the office space had surrendered it upon Mary's arrival. Mary had stayed in that room since her first night at the house, and Lily had come to sleep there almost as regularly. Dorcas and Marlene usually fell asleep in the other flat, and James and Sirius and Remus used to share the other room there, but when Fabian had become infatuated with Dorcas, James and Remus had split. The former didn't cotton too well to the idea of someone fancying his cousin – for James and Dorcas were second cousins – and Remus was happier where people weren't up until all hours of the morning hooting and guffawing.

But now none of that came to the forefront in James' head. Instead, as he investigated the blurred shapes floating in the air above his head (they were dust motes, but he had set his glasses on the windowsill and now could not tell), he thought of Lily Evans, and how she was now sleeping in a bed parallel to his, just through the wall to his right.

She wanted to be a writer, Lily did. James wasn't sure how he knew it. She went to the stupid weekly poetry-in-the-parks, and she always had a pile of books visible from the door to her bedroom, and she spoke like a character in a book. Dorcas was a writer of sorts, and Marlene probably should have been, and Lily walked like an Austen and spoke like a Bronte and yes maybe James only knew this because of Dorcas but he certainly knew it for a reason.

His back hurt and he shouldn't have been pressing it against the mattress, but he also shouldn't have been thinking such pretentiously poetic thoughts about a redhead from a nondescript home county. As if on cue, Gideon snored loudly and shook James from his reverie.

* * *

"I'm freezing my arse off," Sirius complained, hunched over the kitchen bench as the housemates piled in for breakfast. Marlene, passing by, gave the freezing arse in question a little smack and chortled when Sirius choked on his toast.

Gideon wriggled past Sirius at the bench and Dorcas at the table, pulling his oil-blotched denim jacket on as he went. He caught Mary on her way out, though her get-up was in much better nick than his.

"Regular old grease monkey, you are," Mary winked, holding the door so he could pass through after her.

Mary worked at the boutique cosmetics shop in town, filled with perfumes labeled in French and hand creams from Greece and fashion magazines mailed in from London. She looked every bit as pretty as the items on the shelves, with her dusty rose blouse and high waisted white trousers; it wasn't just the clothes that made her pretty, really. Mary just had that disposition. You just had to look at her and think _pretty_.

Gideon, however, worked at the local auto repair shop. Frank Longbottom did part time there when he was back from university, and Dirk Cresswell was around a lot. Ted Tonks managed the place, though the bloke had such a clean-cut look about him that he mightn't have actually _worked_ there a day in his life. Still, Gid earned enough to keep a roof over his head – and his brother's – and that was all that really mattered to him.

As Mary and Gideon left for work, the rest of the house continued with their hustle and bustle. Fabian and Sirius didn't clock in until two in the afternoon, so the former was still sleeping and the latter was sitting hunched over the sports section of _The Daily Prophet_ with James, but the paper office itself opened at nine and in the meantime Dorcas was humming old Sunday school tunes and making herself a cup of tea.

"Dorcas," Lily began inquisitively, eyeing the two boys poring over football results, "why's it called _The Daily Prophet_?"

Swaying from one foot to the other, still absorbed in music that didn't play, Dorcas turned to Lily. "The whole thing was church-funded, originally. Shacklebolt named it half as an allusion and half to take the piss."

Lily laughed. "I can't imagine Kingsley doing something like that."

Dorcas scrunched her face up. "He's sobered up since Skeeter got hired. Someone's got to be serious at the _Prophet_."

At those words, James pulled his head out of the sports columns and said, "oh, Evans, you'd be perfect for that."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"Because you're serious."

Still looking up football results, Sirius smirked, waiting for the inevitable.

"No, _he_ is," said Marlene tiredly, absolutely bored of the joke that came up three times a week in their disorderly household.

"You need a job, Evans," James continued, stretching and suppressing a yawn. "I'm not saying that to push misogynist notions of slave labor and women doing all the hard work." (These words aimed specifically at Dorcas, who had been known to chew many a head off when such a thing occurred.) "_But_ you've got to do something with your days that aren't rubbish poetry readings and John Keats and my football matches."

Lily looked affronted. "I don't spend any more time at your football matches than anyone else does, James, don't kid yourself. And for your information," she added, standing from her seat at the kitchen table and taking her empty plate with her, "'John Keats' is actually named Bertram Aubrey, and he's going to Oxford next September."

James sat up much straighter, and Sirius finally drew himself away from the _Prophet_. "You seem to know a lot about him, then," said the former, running a hand through his unkempt dark hair.

"I do," said Lily as she set about washing her plate in the sink. "He asked me to dinner at Hestia's Bistro. Friday night, at seven o'clock."

James, who had not expected his joke to evolve into this, paled. Marlene and Sirius looked at one another, the blonde accepting and the bloke wondering how ever in the world anyone whose name was _Bertram Aubrey_ could get a date. Dorcas gave no reaction, and instead checked the clock hanging by the door.

"Shit," she said urgently, shattering the silence that had settled over the room. "I'm late." She raced out of the kitchen.


	3. Sweet Baby James

**author's note: © JKR**

iii: "noise vs. silence"

_goodnight, you moon light ladies_

_rock-a-bye sweet baby James_

Marlene was curled up on the sofa bed with a copy of _The Bell Jar_, which she'd borrowed from Dorcas and never returned. She did a lot of that, borrowing and never giving back. It was around nine o'clock in the evening and everyone else was in the other flat. She'd desperately wanted this time alone. As much as Marlene McKinnon adored white noise and din and music and glass bottles clinking against each other in a seemingly endless cycle, the depths of her consciousness craved silence. She felt whole in it, like she was the only person who existed.

Perched on the now-sofa in the dimly lit bedroom, reading someone else's book, wearing someone else's leather jacket, Marlene McKinnon realized two important things: this was her home, and nowhere else could measure up, and these people were her family, and no one else could measure up.

The door opened, a quiet creak that scared her, and she saw Sirius' familiar silhouette against the orange corridor light.

"Have I been summoned for booze and ice cream sandwiches?" she joked.

Sirius shook his head. "Can I join you?"

Marlene shrugged, setting down her book. "I don't see why not."

She moved over, though this proved difficult because it wasn't exactly the world's biggest sofa bed, and Sirius came to rest beside her. Their heads were at one end, leaning on one arm, and their feet at the other. Marlene made to ask Sirius why he'd come when he opened his mouth and spoke.

"James has gone to visit his mum and dad." His voice sounded normal, but Marlene caught a layer of yearning under everything else. She understood why. If she'd been born with his family, she would've envied the Potters, too. Fuck, she'd have envied _anyone_. "So everyone else's all sunshine and rainbows and cares too much about beaches."

Marlene snorted. "I didn't know you had a personal vendetta against beaches, Black."

"I don't," he told her softly, "but that doesn't stop me wanting to ditch them for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Laying it on thick there, mate. I'm beginning to think you need something from me."

"'Need'," Sirius considered. "Probably not. But _want_ is a different matter."

Marlene raised an eyebrow. "You trying to seduce me, Black?"

He shrugged, half-grinning. "Is it working?"

"I don't know," she sighed, shuffling down so she could snuggle against him. She leaned her head against where his arm had automatically moved, and she fiddled absently with the creases in his shirt. "Perhaps if you lay down."

A small part of her expected him to say _oh, come off it, Mack_, but thankfully Sirius did not comply with this small part of Marlene's subconscious. Instead, he moved down in one fluid motion, until the two of them were almost face-to-face.

"I couldn't hate a beach, McKinnon," he said slowly.

"Because of when Dorcas dragged us to Blackpool?"

He smiled. "Because of when Dorcas dragged us to Blackpool."

Marlene remembered it. She couldn't have forgotten it, really. Dorcas was visiting family, and James and Lily had gone to check out the games (and come back not speaking, but that's a different story). Remus and Mary wanted to go to a café, and Fabian and Gideon were staking out the local sunbathers. Marlene loved the ocean; she loved the blues and the whites and the blacks of the rocks and she wanted to immerse herself in it, to dissolve to nothing but salt and spray, be a shadow of a girl and kiss all the shores of the world and never be touched by anyone. She had gone down onto the beach and sprinted into the waves and got herself completely drenched, and her eyes had gone red from salt, and Sirius had followed her under the pier where it was dark and they were alone and oh god she had loved him so much or at least she had thought it.

She had decided in that instant that she couldn't do anything more to be part of the ocean, and she couldn't be a shadow of a girl and kiss all the shores of the world and never be touched by anyone. She knew she couldn't do it, so she settled for kissing Sirius, and only being touched by him. She'd been sopping with seawater, and he wasn't sure if he wanted his leather jacket smelling like salt, but it hadn't mattered in the end.

"Fucking hell, Marlene," he'd said.

"Sounds about right," she'd said.

"I think I could love you right about now."

"Mutual."

"Scary as shit, isn't it?"

She had only nodded.

Back in the present, Sirius looked thoughtful. "Sometimes I reckon I might mean what I said, under the pier and all that. You know, when we're smoking and you're not rolling your eyes at Emma Vanity."

Marlene laughed, but it could've been a breath. "That's only happened once."

"Then lucky you," he murmured.

They were quiet, silent.

"You know, you never did give this back," he said, fingers tightening over his leather jacket as it fit loosely along her waist.

"You never asked."

"I'm asking now."

She shook her head. "You love me in it. I'll bet your stomach does backflips every time you see me wearing it."

There was silence – their silence – then, not thinking about anything but McKinnon and his jacket and the fucking book on the windowsill, Sirius reached out and kissed her.

Again, silence.

* * *

James never knew exactly why he chose to walk for half an hour from his house and his parents', and given the fact that it was an obscenely dark night, so cold that the roads had gone frosty on the edges, the walk was no easier. He stuck his hands in his pockets and soldiered on.

* * *

"Come on, Lily, dance with me." Gideon pulled her to the middle of the room, where the music coming from the radio was the loudest. "I can't be that much worse than Bertram Aubrey."

Lily laughed, shaking her dark red head. "I've never danced with him."

Gideon bowed. "Then, by default, I've got nothing to worry about."

Mary was swaying to the beat of the song, slow and melodious: a recent James Taylor tune. Fabian and Dorcas sat side by side in a chair, her legs curled over his. He had an arm draped around her waist, pulling her closer, but no one paid any attention to it. Fabian and Dorcas were their own pack of cards.

Remus furrowed his brow and asked the now-dancing Lily, "why is it you're going out with this bloke anyway?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose it's because he has a nice smile and he performs at the poetry in the park and he's going to Oxford." The music was playing loudly in her ears. _Goodnight, you moon light ladies_. "That's what he prides himself on, I guess." _Rock-a-bye sweet baby James_. "Why's it such a bother to everyone? Mary goes on dates and no one questions her."

Gideon hummed along to the radio. "It's because we've never seen you interested in a bloke who you didn't also want to throw under a bus."

Puzzled, Lily paused. "I've no idea what that means."

Mary groaned. "Oh, come on, sweets. I thought you were bright."

* * *

James trudged past the pub, dodging a couple as they made their way to what was presumably their car across the road.

"Too bloody frosty to drive," said the man gruffly.

His girlfriend pulled him along. "It's only two blocks; not like we're going to Spinner's End or the Hollow or anything."

The streetlights kept James' path illuminated, though they did not keep him entertained. He wished he had a record with him, some kind of portable cassette tape from which he could listen to music. That would certainly pass the time. If he'd had some company, it would have been all right. For now, all he had was exhaust pipes and the click of his shoes on the pavement.

* * *

Mary danced her way into the kitchen, and was not surprised when she found Lily Evans following her. The redhead leaned against the counter as Mary proceeded to rummage through the fridge in search of something sweet. Gideon had taken a seat beside Remus on the couch, the radio still blaring.

"You went out with Reginald Cattermole, didn't you?"

Mary, hands clasped around a little plastic container of grapes, laughed. "Two months ago, Lily!" She turned to her friend. "He wasn't exactly Oxford-bound Bertram Aubrey."

Lily's eyebrows furrowed. "Why is it that everyone keeps talking about him like he's some kind of…?" She sighed. "Do you lot think he's too good for me or something? Because he's going to Oxford?"

Mary blanched. "No, of course not! Ginge, you're pretty much the smartest person in this house, except maybe Remus or Potter." She crossed the tiled floor and took Lily's hand in her spare one. "Honest."

* * *

There was absolutely no sound on Godric Avenue that night at the Hollow. James made his way across the front garden of his parents' house, observing rather curiously that the lights in the lounge were on but the car was not in the driveway. His parents usually went out together, never one without the other, except when his dad was away in Manchester for the week on business.

James opened the front door, expecting to find the sound of footy on the television or his mother's records. Again, nothing. He followed the silence into the lounge, but he did not find his parents there. Instead, he found his cousin, Caradoc Dearborn, and two moderately out-of-place Blacks, Andromeda and Narcissa. Caradoc was sitting deathly still, while Narcissa's pale face had tears streaking down it. Andromeda had an arm around her sister. Her dark eyes went wide at the sight of James.

"If you don't mind my asking," he began slowly, "what are you three doing in my parents' house?"

Dearborn turned to face him, his expression grim. James wasn't sure what to make of this, for Caradoc usually looked grim. He had a face for delivering bad news – though that wasn't what James expected now.

"James…" said Dearborn, "I – er – I got a call from St. Mungo's about an hour ago. I had to come and see if anyone was at the house." He paused; obviously what he was about to say did not come easily. "Twenty minutes ago, these two showed up. Blondie's sniffling and her sister's white as a sheet. They say they saw the whole thing."

James' ears were ringing. "What 'whole thing'? Where are my parents?"

Andromeda looked at him, and James couldn't handle her gaze. It seemed to weigh him down, drowning under the ocean of tears that were now openly falling down Narcissa's cheeks. "It's a bad night to drive, James. If you went too fast or didn't see a turn coming, you'd skid."

Her voice was calm, and James dreaded what was coming. Shakily, he asked again, "where are my parents?"

"Perhaps you should sit – " Caradoc tried.

Simultaneously, James and Narcissa snapped at Dearborn.

The former: "no, I'm fine standing, thanks. Just tell me what's going on."

The latter: "there's no use in delaying! Can't we just stop pussyfooting about?!" James' head snapped around to see what the commotion was. Narcissa looked him straight in the eyes, a watery gaze and yet still a piercing one. "Andromeda and I were walking home from the cinema, and just when we got to the edge of the Hollow, we heard this almighty screeching – tyres and all that. We turn around and there's a car spiraling out of control – it ends up spinning – it hits a tree. I – oh, god – we go up to see who it is in the car and it's – oh…"

James took a few steps back, gripping the door. "No – you're – no, you can't say that – "

Andromeda shook her head. "You asked where your parents were, James? Right now, I'd wager somewhere at St. Mungo's."

_Oh god oh Jesus oh sweet mother of _

"Given the call I got, James, a more poetic name for it would be… _gone_."

The entire room was spinning and he couldn't breathe and everything was far too loud and James could feel himself keeling over and he wanted to be out of there he hated Narcissa he hated Andromeda he hated Caradoc how could they bring him this news they had to be lying they _had to be_ oh god he had to get out of here he was barely legal to drink how could he organize a funeral holy shit they couldn't be gone they couldn't be _why was his head so loud_

They were all staring at him. James bolted from the house, wanting nothing more than to scream or cry or both. He couldn't stop running – he ran out of the Hollow and back the way he had come – past where he'd heard the couple say it wasn't safe to drive, past all the shops until he'd reached where houses started – and he reached the front of the property he'd come to live in and there were lights on in the lounge and he just _couldn't_. He just couldn't.

James doubled over on the footpath, his hands pressed against concrete. His mind was deafening, but his heart felt silent.


End file.
